Behind the Falls Read online

  “I’ll talk to you later, Snot,” I say when we run out of things to talk about.

  “Talk to you soon, Freak,” Kimber says and hangs up. I really miss her. I can’t wait to go back to Naperville for a visit over Thanksgiving even if it means I have to fly. Why isn’t teleportation a reality by now?

  October

  It’s been over a month since I started school and things are starting to feel normal and routine. I like the routine. It’s easier to stay calm when things are the same and there are no surprises. Every morning is the same. Terry pulls up out front, I say goodbye to Mom and Dad (if Mom isn’t subbing somewhere) and I say hi to my friends. Max always greats me with a smile, Terry with a “hey” and Tabitha grumbles until she gets her coffee.

  I chat with Sherrie at our lockers and in homeroom and the classes we have together. Every once in a while I even sit with her and her friends for lunch. Tabitha asked me the other day if I “LIKE, like” Sherrie which I took to mean as more than friends. Why is Tabitha always so interested in who I might date or kiss or like? If I didn’t know better I would start to think SHE likes ME but I know the truth even if she doesn’t know that I know.

  I still see Dr. Cooper every week. I’ve resigned myself to it by now I guess. I mean, I know I don’t need weekly visits and I rarely have anything to even talk to him about but he insists and my parents defer to his judgment. It’s their money. I mean, the copays are like $25 a week. I wish they’d just give ME that $100 a month and let me skip it.

  On Saturday we go to the Maxwell’s for dinner. My mom and Lydia have actually gotten together a few times in the weeks that have passed since the first time Lydia called. It’s nice for Mom to have someone to hang out with. If she had a regular job maybe she’d make friends with some coworkers but when she does work she’s always at a different school. My dad has his book but he could probably use some adult entertainment too. They’re friendly with the neighbors and chat when they go out to get the mail or whatever but they’re not really friends with them. They need some friends. I’m just looking forward to them having something to focus their attention on besides me for a change.

  I think my parents are also interested in spending some time with the Maxwell family because I’ve been spending so much time at their house. Always overprotective, they want to make sure the Maxwells are going to be a good influence on me. To be honest, I’m surprised they trust me with Max. I would think they’d be afraid he’d turn me into a pierced weirdo or something. In the past month Max and I have pretty much spent every afternoon together after school just doing homework and hanging out. I wonder if his other friends feel slighted that he doesn’t hang with them as much anymore.

  It’s really warm on Saturday, probably one of the last really warm days we can expect to have. When we get there, Mark is cooking on the grill. After Mom introduces Dad to Mark and Lydia, Dad and Mark talk gas versus charcoal and lava rocks versus none. They are so different, Mark the muscle bound ex-military tough guy and Dad, the slightly nerdy college professor and yet they really seem to hit it off. It must be the shared love of grilling. Cooking outside over an open flame must be a dad thing in general.

  Sammi takes me by the hand almost as soon as we get there and drags me to the TV room to see the gerbil babies. They’re actually pretty cute now. They’re only a couple of weeks old but they’ve really changed a lot. They have fur and their eyes are open and they look distinct now. Sammy tries to teach me their names. I can’t remember people’s names. I’m supposed to remember gerbil names?

  “This is Speedy because he’s so fast,” she says pointing out the quick gerbil. “This is Petal, this is Blaze, this is Twizzler, this is Sunshine and this is Max,” she finishes off by pointing at the only completely black gerbil in the mix.

  “Yes, I’ve had a gerbil named after me. I guess I’ve arrived,” Max says as he enters the room. I turn around to see him smiling at Sammi and her gerbil family. “I hope you’re hungry,” he says as he picks Sammi up and swings her over his shoulder so that she’s hanging upside down across his back. “Dad kind of went overboard on the grilling. I don’t think there’s anything on the menu that isn’t meat based. Your parents aren’t vegetarians or anything, are they?”

  “No they’re carnivores. If they ever go vegetarian I might have to look into emancipation,” I laugh as I follow Max through the house. Mom and Lydia are setting the table when we get to the kitchen. Matty is in his highchair banging two plastic cups together.

  “Need any help?” Max asks, Sammi still hanging upside down behind him. Lydia looks over her shoulder as she’s reaching into a cupboard.

  “You could call Sammi for dinner. I have no idea where she could have gotten to.”

  “Sammi? I haven’t seen her all evening,” Max says, turning exaggeratedly to look around the kitchen. “Sammi? Where are you?” Sammi is laughing hysterically.

  “I’m right here!” she giggles.

  “Noah, did you hear that? I could swear I heard Sammi’s voice but I don’t see her anywhere.” Sammi laughs harder. Finally, Max makes a big show of “finding” Sammi and plunks her down in one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Sammi!” says Matty.

  “We were going to eat out on the patio but it seems to be getting chilly now that the sun is going down,” Lydia says as she places plates on the table. Mom follows with silverware. The Maxwell patio is pretty amazing. It’s all pavers and walls and landscaping with a fire pit and table and chairs and random seating. It’s a shame we have to eat in the kitchen.

  Dad and Mark enter with trays full of their efforts. They’re talking about some new computer or tablet or tech device. My dad may be an English professor and not scientific at all but he just loves his gadgets. Since Mark is some kind of computer genius, Dad is in heaven.

  Max wasn’t kidding. The trays the dads place on the table are full of meat. There are steaks and kabobs and hot dogs and shrimp skewers and grilled wings. How many people did Mark think he was feeding? Vegetables are represented in the form of grilled corn on the cob and a packet of mixed vegetables that were steamed in a foil wrapper right on the grill.

  Before we eat, Lydia asks if anyone would mind if we say grace. Of course Mom and Dad say they don’t mind. When you’re a guest in someone’s house you don’t question their ways.

  My parents themselves aren’t religious. People assume they are because my name sounds so biblical but I’m actually named after some obscure poet that no one ever heard of. Dad says he’s agnostic and Mom says that’s because he’s too lazy to say he’s an atheist. I guess if you say you’re an atheist you have to spend a lot of time defending your lack of belief.

  Mom is “spiritual” in that she believes in a higher power which she usually refers to as “the universe” or everything that ever was or ever will be. She believes there is something more but doesn’t necessarily buy into what she calls the Christian mythos. She’s more about projecting positive and that what you put out comes back to you. Me? I just don’t think about it that much. I have enough things to worry about. I don’t need to stress out about the afterlife too do I?

  The way Max’s family does grace is that everyone links hands around the table and Mark gives a general thanks for their health and happiness and the meal we’re about to enjoy and then amen. I don’t even think he said the words God, Jesus, Lord or our Father. That’s how grace should be, short, sweet and to the point. It’s how my mom would probably do grace if we did that sort of thing at home.

  The parents converse like they’ve all known each other forever. Well, Mom and Lydia have actually spent some time together but Dad and Mark really hit it off and I’m glad. Dad spends SO much time with the book. I think it will be good for him to get out of his office, out of his head once in a while.

  When we’ve eaten more than we probably should Lydia puts Matty to bed and Mom puts on some coffee. Max and I do the dishes but that is really just clearing the table, rinsing them briefly then putting them in the
dishwasher. When Lydia returns there is dessert which I think I’m too stuffed to eat and yet I manage. Sammi is fading fast at this point and she’s next for bed.

  “We’re going to go downstairs and watch a movie,” Max informs the parents. Max piles up pillows against the head board of the bed turning it into a couch that faces the flat screen on the wall. It’s a smart TV so he’s got the necessary apps to watch pretty much anything that’s available streaming. I take control of the remote.

  “We are going to watch what is arguably one of the best horror movies of all times. The book was definitely one of the best ghost stories I’ve ever read.” Max turns off the overhead light so the only light is a lamp on his desk. I queue up the movie.

  “What is it?” he asks as he chews on a piece of licorice. Seriously, how does he have room for even one more bite of food?

  “It’s The Haunting. Now just shut up and watch,” I command.

  “I’ve seen it already, No. Liam Neeson, Catherine Zeta-Jones…”

  “No, not that over stylized, over CGI remake. I’m talking about the original. Watch and learn,” I tell him. Max seems unconvinced by the black and white, dated film but soon he’s watching intently. “See, the beauty of this movie and the book even more so, is what you DON’T see. It’s terrifying in its simplicity. You have to use your imagination and nothing can scare you more than your own mind,” I explain just above a whisper. For the first time I catch the irony of enjoying something that scares me because of my own imagination.

  I can see Max waiting for a fright every time there is an unexplained noise and I can see him waiting to SEE something which won’t happen. I can also see when the suspense of NOT actually seeing anything starts to freak him out a little. By the time it gets to the scene where the one character THINKS she’s holding the other woman’s hand in the dark, only to find the woman wasn’t even in the room, Max grabs my wrist.

  “Whose hand was she holding?” he whispers urgently. “No, whose hand was she holding?” I try not to laugh. That scene always freaked me out too. When the movie is over, Max takes a deep breath.

  “Okay, so you were right. Being scared has nothing to do with seeing lots of blood and guts. You know, for the whole beginning of that I thought Eleanor was just crazy and all of that shit was in her head,” he says.

  “It’s like how Lovecraft was so scary,” I say. “I mean, you’ve read Lovecraft right? He never really ‘shows’ the scare, you know? He alludes to it. He teases you with it but then leaves you to your own imagination. That’s what makes it so damned creepy.”

  While we’re talking about the movie a knock sounds on the door to Max’s studio. “Yeah?” he calls as he gets up to answer the door.

  “Noah, it’s time to go,” says Mom from the doorway.

  “We were going to watch another movie,” I argue.

  “It’s getting late and I’m tired,” she says.

  “I can drive Noah home later,” Max offers.

  “Yeah, or I could just walk, it’s a few blocks,” I say.

  “Or Noah could just stay here tonight. Apparently I need an education on horror films, the sooner the better,” Max cajoles. Mom seems to consider it for a moment.

  “Well, okay as long as Mark and Lydia are okay with it,” Mom says. She looks to me and I smile reassuringly. I know what she’s thinking. What if I have an attack when I’m away from home without my meds? It won’t happen though. I haven’t had any problems for weeks and she doesn’t even know about the panic attack at Hershey.

  When Mom leaves, Max and I settle in for another movie. Before I queue it up he tells me to hang on a second. He sticks his finger in one eye then flicks something in the trash then does the same with the other eye.

  “Ew, what the Hell?” I ask. That just looked gross.

  “Disposable contacts,” he explains as he puts on a pair of glasses and lies down on his pile of pillows again. I had no clue Max even wore contacts. His glasses are rectangular with black plastic frames. They’re much smaller than Elliot’s ridiculously over-sized hipster glasses. They make his eyes look even more clear blue. It would figure that Max even looks good in glasses. If he wasn’t my friend I could probably hate him a little for looking so good.

  This time I choose Burnt Offerings. I love horror movies from the sixties and seventies. They’re so much better than the newer films. I don’t know if Max makes it to the end of the movie but I fall asleep before Bette Davis dies.

  It’s completely dark when I wake up and at first I have no idea where I am then I remember I’m in Max’s room. I fell asleep on top of the blankets but now I’m wrapped up like a human burrito. I’m still on top of the covers but the blankets from the other side of the bed have been pulled over me and tucked in around me.

  I sit up and strain to see in the dark and by the light of some random electronic equipment in Max’s studio I can just about make out a shape on the couch. I don’t know if Max finished the movie before he turned off the TV and the lights and went to sleep on the couch. I figure if he didn’t I’ll make him watch it some other time. It’s a really creepy one and I think he’ll enjoy it. That’s my last thought before I lie back and fall asleep again.

  On Sunday after I leave Max’s house I go home long enough to change into running clothes. My parents are still in their pajamas when I head out for a run. I’ve been slacking lately and it takes me a while to find the right pace, the proper breathing. I need to make more of an effort to set aside time for this. I enjoy it. It’s good for me and keeps me steady.

  When I get back from the run there’s a text message from Sherrie asking me if I want to go to Lancaster with her. Apparently there are some shoes she just has to have at a little boutique that’s never open in the evenings when she gets there after school. She’s planning to shop and just bum around downtown and have some lunch then come home. My homework is done and I have nothing else to do so, to my surprise, I say yes.

  Sherrie picks me up in her mom’s car. I’m going equipped with Mom’s credit card. She has given me a spending limit to buy some clothes. Since I’ve stopped wearing the polo shirts my wardrobe is noticeably thinner. Mom’s exact words were, “Buy some clothes so I don’t have to see you in the same six shirts all of the time.”

  Just like at school, Sherrie pretty much carries the conversation. She asks just the right amount of questions that I contribute to the conversation but not so many that I get uncomfortable. She asks if I’m doing anything for Halloween. There are a lot of parties and there’s a Halloween dance but I have no plans. I’ve never been much for Halloween. Costume and mask or not, I’ve never been a fan of knocking on random strangers’ doors. I’d probably be too worried about razor blades in candy to be able to eat any. At sixteen I guess I should be interested in at least getting dressed and going to the dance but I just don’t really want to go to another school dance.

  When we get to Lancaster Sherrie finds parking in the middle of a street full of small shops. Some are closed because it’s a Sunday but many are open. There are small boutiques, second hand stores and shops that look more like junk stores than anything else. Sherrie goes to the store with the shoes immediately.

  “Aren’t they just the cutest?” she gushes as she walks back and forth in the store modeling them for me. I just shrug. They make her legs look great. Maybe that’s what she sees in these shoes to start with.

  “I guess,” I say. I know nothing about fashion and even less about women’s shoes. To me they look like a torture device. They’re pointy and precariously high. She’s as likely to break an ankle in those as walk successfully.

  After the shoe purchase we both shop for some clothes. It’s good to have Sherrie along. She helps makes the decision making process easier. She also tells me I’m wearing my shirts too loose. Who knew? After she picks one out that she says is a better size for me she makes me model it. She straightens the collar and lets her hands glide down my sides as she checks the fit. I defer to her judgment on sizing. Aft
er I’ve reached my spending limit on clothes we go to lunch. It’s a nice day and nothing makes me feel anxious.

  “See you tomorrow,” Sherrie says as she drops me off at my house.

  “See you tomorrow,” I say and I really am looking forward to seeing her again. Even a year ago I would have never believed I would have friends and that I would feel comfortable with so many different people. I feel really good. As much as I freaked out about it in the beginning, I’m actually glad we moved to Lansing.

  ****

  The only noteworthy thing that happens all during the week is what Dr. Cooper decides after my Wednesday session. As usual he pokes and prods at any negatives since the prior week’s session rather than congratulating me on the good. I’ve learned to say as little as possible to Dr. Cooper so he doesn’t really have any ammo to use against me. I only tell him the positives. Like, I mention the spur of the moment shopping trip with Sherrie. I tell him how glad I am that we moved to Lansing and that I’m getting on so well at public school.

  I tell him about dinner at Max’s house and how well the families got along. I tell him about all of the different people I’ve met. When he brings up the fact that I still haven’t ridden the school bus I shrug it off because who wouldn’t rather go to school with their friends than ride the creaky old bus?

  At the end of the session he calls my mom in and asks me to excuse them. I hate when he talks to Mom behind my back. I mean, he’s my shrink. It’s my privacy he has to protect not hers. Anything he says to her should be said in front of me. Today isn’t so bad though. He calls me back into his office and tells me that he and Mom have decided it’s not really necessary for me to see him every week. We decide on a biweekly schedule for now. If things keep going this well for me he says we’ll cut back to monthly visits after the Christmas break. I can practically see my freedom on the horizon.